


Once More

by sassafrasx



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: 3 Times Damen Meets Laurent, 3+1 Things, And Then Really Meets Him, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-16 14:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassafrasx/pseuds/sassafrasx
Summary: “Well, if I had known this would be my greeting, I'd have ridden harder home,” Laurent drawled, riding gloves clutched carelessly in one elegant hand.





	Once More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elsa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsa/gifts).



1

Damen grinned, lips cracked and every exposed inch of skin caked in dust and sweat, his pulse a fierce beat in his chest as he revelled in the moment; through his helmet he could hear the dull roar of the crowd around the tournament field, and dimmer, but no less noticeable, the laughter of the Crown Prince of Vere in front of him, pinned to the ground at Damen’s swordpoint.

Pulling the sword away, Damen offered Auguste his hand, which he gladly took, slapping Damen on the back as he rose, then leant in and said, “Best of three?” with such joy and camaraderie at a well-matched fight — the same that Damen felt crackling through his veins — that Damen knew without doubt he’d never find a better sparring partner.

“Absolutely.”

*

While he could tell his father wasn’t strictly pleased, Damen found himself engrossed in conversation (and more than a fair bit of wine and good-natured joking) with Auguste for the rest of the tournament.

There’d been unrest in Sicyon, and despite the fire that Damen knew was in his father’s belly to take back Delpha, they couldn’t afford not to make nice with their northern neighbors at the moment. Hence this tournament, constructed as a way to improve relations and test Akielon and Veretian skills against one another in a more practical outlet. The Veretians might be strange with their awful taste in clothing and prudish tendencies that were unfathomable to Damen, but they were good fighters and it was a pleasure to watch his soldiers test themselves out against worthy opponents — and then bet and drink themselves under the table afterwards.

Auguste was a golden, shining jewel among them, clearly well-loved and deservedly so; even Damen liked him immediately and without qualms and it wasn’t hard to see at all how he could command the loyalty of so many of those around him. It was a skill Damen appreciated greatly, and it was somewhat of a relief — although he would never tell his father — to be able to test himself against and commiserate with someone of similar talents and rank, even if Auguste was a damnable Veretian.

*

“Laurent!” Auguste burst in while they were watching the wrestling match below; Damen turned. “Damianos, please meet my younger brother, Laurent.”

Damen had seen Laurent briefly when the Veretian court had arrived and exchanged formalities before the start of the tournament. Up close Laurent was older than Damen had first assumed, around eleven but a thin wisp compared to his brother, and pale as moonlight, delicate where Auguste was strong-boned and sturdy. He had ink stains on his fingers.

But as he stared up at Damen, mouth slightly ajar as if the sight of Damen himself was shocking and overwhelming, Damen couldn’t help but smile. “Please, call me Damen.”

Laurent nodded and looked down briefly, then back up, voice soft as he said, "It's a pleasure." While he didn't say anything else the rest of the night, he stuck close and Damen caught him smiling bashfully more than once in his direction.

2

The Veretians didn’t do many things right, but even Damen could admire how adeptly they handled their horses.

Auguste smirked from beside him. “I’m pretty sure Laurent planned this little display to the exact moment he knew you’d be walking by.”

“Well he’s certainly quite good. He’s what, thirteen now? That stallion would give men twice his age trouble,” Damen murmured as he watched Laurent coax the stubborn and untrained horse into obeying him.

“He pouted something fierce — or his version of pouting anyway — when he found out you would only be able to come to the tournament in Fortaine for a few days, and not an extended trip. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he has a crush.”

Damen dismissed it out of hand. “Just a bit of hero worship. I’m the only one who can best you in a spar after all.” But the flush on Laurent’s cheeks and the glow in his blue eyes at Damen’s praise afterwards belied that statement and Damen resolved to put it out of his mind.

He was just a boy after all and childish fancy would soon grow stale.

3

“It’s been too long,” Auguste greeted him warmly in private after the formalities of Damen’s return to Vere were taken care of.

“I know. And where is Laurent? Last I saw of you, you two never seemed to leave each other’s sides. He must be full grown now.”

“Yes,” Auguste said with not inconsiderable amusement and then looked behind Damen.  “Ah, Laurent, you made it!”

Damen turned with an easy grin, and then promptly choked on his wine and fumbled his cup to the floor.

While he tried to right himself Laurent must've picked his way over, because he looked back up to find Laurent gazing at him coolly, eyebrow raised. “Well, if I had known this would be my greeting, I'd have ridden harder home,” Laurent drawled, riding gloves clutched carelessly in one elegant hand.

Damen swallowed and felt as if something had shifted fundamentally underneath his feet. Auguste was largely failing not to laugh.

“Hello, Laurent,” Damen murmured.

Laurent’s riding leathers clung to lean, well-muscled calves and thighs, laces all the way down from his throat to his slender waist. Damen blinked at the slightest shift.

“Welcome back to Vere, _Damianos_.”

*

The sun caught gold in the corner of his eye and Damen smiled to himself as he turned and paused.

“I can’t help but think your entrance earlier, like that, was on purpose,” Damen said, stepping out onto the veranda where Laurent was lounging against the balustrade, seemingly deep in thought.

The faintest upturn curved one edge of Laurent’s mouth, then gone; Laurent shifted to gaze impassively at the bustle in the courtyard. “I’m sorry, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

Damen hummed and moved to stand closer beside him, taking in the view at his side. “Maybe, maybe not. I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we, Laurent?” Damen said and cocked a slow smile at him, before he reached forward and took Laurent’s hand lightly in his own, bending down to brush a soft, unhurried kiss to the back of his hand.

Laurent’s palm was surprisingly strong, sword callused, but the tips of Damen’s fingers slipped underneath the laces to skim against the skin of Laurent’s wrists, where it was smooth, delicate. Laurent’s breath hitched.

Then Laurent pulled his hand back with calculated precision and stepped away, all calm and control once again as he angled his jaw a bit and shrugged. “Perhaps,” he demurred and took his leave.

_Perhaps._

He’d been blushing. Damen grinned.

+1

Laurent sighed into his mouth. “I have oils in the chest over there,” he murmured, hand waving vaguely behind Damen.

Damen pressed kisses into the skin of Laurent’s throat, admired the soft, pale white of it as Laurent tipped his head back on a sigh, and clenched his fingers deeper into Laurent’s slim waist, unwilling to let go.

When Damen finally managed to extricate himself and rummage around until he found a bottle of something suitably thick and slippery with clumsy impatient hands, he turned around to the sight of Laurent, flipped onto his stomach and legs splayed apart against dark silk, hooded eyes drawing lazily over Damen over one elegant shoulder like a heavy, physical touch. Damen blinked, oil clutched to his chest. There was something careless yet completely deliberate about the way Laurent had arranged himself; Damen’s breath stopped at the large space left between his thighs, how his knees pushed forward just enough to tilt his ass upwards, leaving everything there for Damen to see. He was drawn forward before he could think, the thrumming need to close the distance between them as inexorable as the sunrise.

Damen hesitated as he pulled himself back onto the bed. “Tell me, if there's anything you don't want, or if you need me to stop—”

“I want your cock,” Laurent said, with the same fierce determination in his eyes that he'd had when he'd decided he was going to tame a stallion at thirteen. “I may not be generous with my affections with others, but I am not a child and I've had plenty of time to imagine what I want and experiment. I can assure you, _you won't break me_.”

Damen swallowed with a sharp intake of breath, then settled himself between Laurent's thighs, fingertips skimming the smooth, pale skin there before brushing along the curve of his ass. Laurent’s head dropped into the bedding and his knees shifted a fraction wider, restless, fingers clenching.

Later, much later, he'd allow himself to fully consider the thought of what Laurent got up to in his own bed, the overwhelming, vivid images that thought could inspire. But for now there was the stretch of Laurent's back in front of him, the lean slope of his shoulders and spine, and he could hardly focus on where to touch first, a giddy kind of greed filling him up breathlessly.


End file.
